


dark as wine

by urcadelimabean



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Dubious Ethics, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-08 08:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urcadelimabean/pseuds/urcadelimabean
Summary: Charles likes it when Jack kills for him.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time, Jack hadn't known what that look meant.

It was rare that he should kill one of Charles’ opponents, but battle on a ship was a chaotic messy affair, and Jack had ended up with his saber lodged in the man's rib cage seconds before he would have struck Charles with his knife. Knowing Charles’ reflexes, there had been no significant danger of him being injured. Charles had looked at Jack with his teeth bared as he caught his breath. Later he had taken him to his cabin and fucked him like Jack had never been fucked before or since.

It happened again a few months later. They had boarded the other ship, and Jack had fought beside Charles, backing after him into the swath of bodies Charles cut across the deck. In the skirmish a number of men had rushed them, and by the time Charles had struck down two, a third had sunk a chokehold around his neck, and Jack had immediately taken the man by his hair and sliced his throat from behind.

The ship had surrendered, and Charles had stood there looking at Jack's bloodied hands. His eyes were dark and wide, and Jack recognized at last through the haze of adrenaline that it was a look of arousal.

“Go to my cabin,” Charles had said simply, and walked off to order the cargo transferred.

Jack did as he was told. He sheathed his bloodied sword and made an assessment of his hopelessly stained clothes. He touched his fingertips to his stomach and was relieved to find that none of the blood was his own.

At last the door slammed open and Charles entered. When he looked at Jack, it was downright predatory. He closed the cabin door behind him and stood there for a moment, tensed, staring across the space between them.

And then something relaxed in his shoulders and he walked towards Jack and sank languidly to his knees, resting his forehead against Jack's belt.

“Charles,” Jack said instantly. It was supplication and a soft greeting. He tangled his hands in Charles hair, perhaps to stop him, perhaps to urge him on as Charles’ hands began to fumble with Jack’s belt and then his trousers. “You don’t have to--”

Charles laughed, low and dark. “You’ve earned it. And I want to.”

He wrapped his palm around Jack’s cock and leaned close, starting with his tongue, letting out a quiet moan as he did so, like he'd been wanting to do this for a while. Jack was already leaning heavily with his hands on Charles’ broad shoulders, and when Charles swallowed him and looked up to meet his eyes Jack gripped him hard.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Jack sighed. Charles fucked his mouth on Jack’s cock, and brought one of Jack’s bloodied hands to his cheek as he sucked and swirled his tongue under the length of him. When at last he pulled away, he switched to Jack’s fingers, and sucked on them greedily until they were clean. He licked Jack's bloodied knuckles and pressed his open mouth to the inside of Jack's wrist.

“What exactly brought this on?” Jack murmured. The lingering warmth of Charles’ mouth made him feel like a fire had been ignited in his flesh.

Charles blinked slowly up at him. He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Like it when you kill for me,” he muttered. His rough voice sent a deep shiver through Jack. “Like it a lot.”

He stood and shoved Jack violently back toward their bed, beginning to strip him of his clothing.

“Wait, please,” Jack murmured softly, stilling Charles’ hands. At the fear of rejection in Charles’ eyes, Jack pressed on, “I am more than happy about this evening’s turn of events, my darling, but I think it may be important for you to articulate why you have had this particular reaction.”

Charles looked nonplussed, glaring at him. “You want me to figure out why seeing you kill makes my dick hard.”

Jack put a soothing hand on the side of Charles’ neck. “That’s it.”

Charles looked him up and down with a look that, from Jack’s experience, either meant he wanted to tear him apart piece by piece, or ride him until they were both sweating and shouting.

Charles exhaled a breath and bent to nuzzle Jack’s shoulder. “Makes me feel like I have your utmost loyalty. Like maybe you’d do anything for me, anything at all, no matter how bloody or monstrous it was. You'd do it.”

Jack turned his head into the crook of Charles’ neck. “I have told you as much before, surely. Many times over the years.”

“Well, maybe I just like seeing you run a man through with your sword,” Charles growled. “Maybe I like seeing you covered in another man's blood.” He picked Jack up and pushed him down on the bed, stripping his own shirt over his head in one quick motion. And then he was out of his trousers and boots, naked but for the necklace around his throat, and he climbed atop Jack.

Jack caressed Charles’ thighs as Charles ground down against him. His face was delightfully flushed, his hair disheveled. Jack watched, hypnotized, as Charles slicked his hand with saliva and reached down to finger himself, his breathing ragged and uneven. He watched Charles’ eyes fall closed, his teeth bared in a silent snarl. And as Jack watched, he had the presence of mind to quickly grabbed the oil from beside their bed and get himself ready.

And then Charles sank down on Jack's cock, slow and tight, bracing himself on Jack's chest. Once Jack was buried all the way inside him Charles let out a short gasp. He began to ride him hard, so hard Jack thought the bed might break--but _God_ he didn't care in that moment, not even a little bit.

Charles took a swig of wine, spilling it down his chest. He laughed unsteadily, took his knife and in one quick motion cut a shallow line down his own abdomen. Jack hissed in surprise as the blood and wine dripped off Charles onto his own chest. Charles rubbed Jack with it, breathing heavily, making no attempt to explain himself or assuage Jack's discomfort. But it was only momentary discomfort on Jack's part. Charles threw his head back, and Jack knew that for whatever reason Charles needed this. He could forgive Charles’ disregard for his own well-being as long as it didn't exceed these parameters, because he didn't like to see Charles cut up and damaged. But he did like the rest, the unashamed way Charles was riding him, arching his back, and making a low desperate noise in the back of his throat. As long as he didn't take a knife to himself again.

Jack held Charles’ thighs in either side of him, and then slowly, cautiously, coated his hand in Charles’ blood and reached up to hold his throat.

Charles pushed against his hand as he rode him, choking himself against Jack's hand. He gritted his teeth as he pushed down hard and Jack moaned and squeezed the bloodied column of his neck. Charles ducked his mouth down to Jack's fingers and Jack held him by the teeth, staining them red. If anything in that moment had required Jack to look away from Charles he knew he would not have been able to do so.

Charles bent over him, took a soft kiss from his lips and then climbed off of him, still hard. He lay down on his belly beside Jack, his hair obscuring his face as he hung his head down between his arms. He didn't like to ask for it, but the invitation was clear given their history together. It meant he wanted to be fucked slow and thorough. Jack bent and kissed Charles' shoulder tenderly before pushing inside him again.

Charles reached back, bent his arms and lay his wrists between his shoulder blades. Jack gently took Charles’ upper hand in his own and held him there as he fucked him. It hit a certain place inside him every time Charles asked to be taken like this. It wasn't often, but Jack knew he was the only one in the world Charles trusted in this way, and he had to make sure Charles got what he needed--slow and careful, just how he liked, after he had satisfied his need for violence.

Jack kissed the back of Charles’ neck. “I'd do anything for you, my darling,” he whispered. “Lie, steal, kill, as I have and as I will until we meet our deaths together.” God help him, he'd never had much of a choice. Jack thought with a dark rush of excitement mixed with sadness that if hell was real they'd go there together, however they met their end.

Charles tried to close his fingers around Jack's hand as he moaned beneath him. Jack held his hand and raked his teeth along the side of Charles’ neck. He tasted bitter like copper and heady like wine and growled quietly at the press of Jack's teeth.

“ _Jack_ ,” he panted, and came with a moan as Jack spilled hot and wet inside him.

Jack pulled out slowly, carefully. He gently lifted Charles’ wrists from their twisted position between his shoulder blades and placed them on the bed at his sides. He tried to lift Charles’ shoulder, and Charles shifted just slightly, allowing Jack to wedge himself beneath him. Charles’ arm closed possessively on him. Jack could feel the stickiness off Charles’ blood and come between their chests like a covenant.

He pressed a kiss to Charles’ forehead.

They sailed on across the ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles likes it when Jack kills for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very helpful people pointed out that I could expand on the part ‘Later Charles had taken him to his cabin and fucked him like Jack had never been fucked before or since.’ So here it is! I seriously hope I delivered, because that was a tall order. Obviously takes place before the last chapter. Lots of thanks to my wonderful beta [xpityx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpityx/pseuds/xpityx) for giving me great input, as well as everyone who has left kudos and comments!
> 
> No new tags/warnings. The graphic violence warning doesn't apply to this chapter. This whole thing takes place after [if you lose a precious thing,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444427) if you’re looking for an explanation of why Charles is alive and allied with the Maroons, but you don't have to read that first.

It’s a point of pride that Jack kills the man before Charles has the chance. Not that he could ever claim to be the stronger of the two of them in a fight, but his cleverness has served him well in battle many times, and today is such an instance. All the better when it happens for Charles to witness it.

When Charles gets him inside the captain’s cabin, he begins stripping Jack of his clothing. Jack tries to help but Charles is fucking _manhandling_ him and, he belatedly realizes, checking him over for injuries in the dim light, turning him around and pawing over every inch of him. Apparently satisfied, Charles leans in close. His eyelashes brush Jack's cheek as he kisses Jack's mouth. Jack parts his lips and Charles’ tongue enters it in an instant. Charles tastes like smoke and something slightly alcoholic, beginning to clench his hands impatiently at Jack's waist, stifling Jack's quiet moan with his mouth before finally releasing him so they can both catch their breath.

“I’m not hurt,” Jack says, somewhat pointlessly. He opens Charles’ belt, reaches under the edge of his shirt and squeezes the sides of his waist, feeling Charles tense and relax as he breathes harder. “And you, darling? Are you alright?”

Perhaps it is too optimistic to expect Charles to say much at this point. Charles strips his shirt over his head, wraps his arms around Jack again, one muscular thigh pressing between Jack's legs. Jack breathes harder as Charles’ mouth drops heavily to his neck and one hand begins rubbing his cock through his trousers. The air in the dark cabin suddenly feels hot, Charles hands on him even hotter.

Charles nuzzles his neck, slow and affectionate. He groans as he rubs against him, sounding a little desperate, his voice low and rough as he says, “Let me fuck you, Jack.”

“Anything.”

Charles groans again, tightening his grip on Jack appreciatively. He sheds the rest of his clothing haphazardly, fumbles behind him in one of the drawers for some oil, opens Jack's trousers as quickly as he can, and pins him against the wall with a growl. Jack inhales sharply, flushed with arousal, distantly thinking that his back will be bruised and sore tomorrow from the impact as Charles reaches down and pushes his fingers inside him.

Jack grips Charles’ shoulders and sinks down against him with a moan, his knees starting to shake.

“I've got you, Jack,” Charles murmurs. He presses him firmly against the wall, stroking Jack's cock against his own as he fingers him, and Jack's grip on Charles nearly slips.

Jack makes a strangled sound as Charles pulls out. Charles lifts him and pushes him farther up against the wall, kisses him like he's effectively trying to suffocate him, then pulls back, panting as he finally positions Jack just how he wants and guides himself inside him. He groans, and Jack watches him grit his teeth.

They are both sweating now, Charles straining from exertion, arms supporting Jack's thighs as he grinds his hips between Jack's legs. Jack claws at him to bring him closer, and Charles fucks him harder as if trying to prove a point.

Sweat beads on Charles’ forehead--a droplet catches in his eyelashes, and Jack brushes it away and tugs Charles by his hair into a kiss. He tugs harder, seeing just how hard he has to pull to make Charles come apart, watching as his eyes become unfocused. His movements become a little less controlled, more frantic. Jack is gasping now, running his hands over Charles’ straining shoulders, almost at the peak of tremendous pleasure. The deck of the ship tips under them, and Charles tips with the movement before shoving Jack against the wall again and holding him there somehow despite it. It’s insane, Charles taking him up against the wall like this as the ship heaves beneath them over the swell of the ocean, but then again very little of either of their lives has ever made coherent sense amid all the violence and horror, and perhaps it’s in these moments alone when their lives approach some sort of sanity.

After a shuddering breath, Jack whispers, “Wish I could tell you how beautiful you look, darling.”

Charles is past the point of being able to speak. Jack presses a kiss to his lips and when he withdraws Charles leans in to chase his mouth. He shifts one arm out from under Jack's thigh. Jack realizes his purpose is to urge Jack to come at the same time as him as Charles wraps his hand around his cock and strokes him up and down, and Jack feel like he’s on fire. He can feel the heat coming off of Charles’ skin in waves. Charles kisses him until neither of them can breathe and pulls away, satisfied, his chest heaving.

Charles searches his face, looking him over as if he is the only thing that exists, murmuring his name. Jack knows he is the only person left for Charles, given that every other person he has ever loved or trusted is dead. Jack, too, had very nearly died in the hold of a British ship and is only breathing now because of Anne's courage, and by some impossible stroke of fate Charles also survived his ordeal and the two of them are here together.

Charles presses him there against the wall, breathing hard between his teeth, and then he comes, bringing Jack with him, his eyes squeezed shut as he clings to Charles. Charles sinks down to his knees, holding Jack in his lap.

They pant together in relaxed exhaustion, bumping their noses together as they work at cross-purposes--Jack trying to kiss Charles’ mouth, Charles trying to lick Jack's neck clean.

 

 

They lie there for an indeterminate period of time as Charles slowly makes his way down Jack’s chest, licking and kissing. Jack is delirious, unable to tell how much time has passed.

He notices after a while how the moon casts the cabin in dim light, outlining Charles in silver. He slowly touches the meeting of the light on his skin.

Charles’ mouth dips down to his stomach, and Jack feels desire stirring in him again despite his exhaustion. Charles looks up at him with a half-smile on his face, blinking lazily. His gaze is warm in the flicker of the candlelight and moonlight as he takes Jack into his mouth, and Jack’s fingers curl in his hair. A sigh escapes his lips. Charles moans and reaches down to touch himself as he moves his mouth up and down Jack’s cock. He does it slowly, lazily, closing his eyes.

Jack’s breath catches in his chest. He tries not to move under the feeling of Charles’ mouth, and looks him over with tenderness--notices that Charles’ shoulder is bleeding as he lies there between Jack’s legs. Jack’s fingers slip from Charles’ tangled hair. He brushes the shallow cut with his thumb, and Charles groans and pulls back.

He lifts Jack to his feet bodily, holds the back of his head and presses Jack’s mouth against his bloodied shoulder. So Jack does what he expects Charles wants--he opens his mouth. Charles holds him there for a long moment, keeping him upright. Jack kisses the cut when he’s sucked the blood away, and Charles tightens his grip on him in a vice.

Then Charles takes him to bed, half dragging half carrying him, one arm slung around Jack’s waist. He pushes his hand down between Jack’s shoulder blades and watches as Jack goes down with a moan, so easily, as the ship sways beneath them. Charles curves his body behind him and wraps one hand around the back of Jack’s bicep, and Jack says something that's either _I love you_ or _I need you_ and other incoherent murmurs about what he needs as Charles’ pins him down.

“Jack,” Charles pants, and he knows Jack likes hearing his name like that, not because he’s ever said as much, but because it’s Jack, and he attaches too much importance to his name. Always has. “Captain Jack Rackham,” Charles breathes, low and ragged, liking the way it feels on his tongue. Although Jack does nothing but pant softly against the bed Charles knows he’s listening with rapt attention, every fiber of his body trembling just slightly at the sound of his name said like that, as Charles holds him there on his knees.

“Always so concerned about your legacy, and how you’ll be remembered after death, but no one else gets to remember you like this, ‘cept me.” Jack groans quietly and curses, and Charles knows he's cut to the heart of it, as easily as he would parry a sword stroke and plunge a knife deep into a man's chest: because as much as Jack cares about his good name, it will always be superseded by how he's seen in Charles’ eyes. Charles guides himself inside Jack again and pushes Jack down hard, hard enough to drive the point home.

Because the point is that Jack’s on his ship, his ship is flying Jack’s jolly roger, and they’re more or less at war with England, or at least all Englishmen who deal in the slave trade, and Jack is more loyal than any man he’s ever known, and has the blood on his hands to prove it. The thought brings back a little of the bloodlust from the battle earlier, as Charles thinks about all the things Jack has done in his name. He thinks about his own blood on Jack’s tongue. Jack is calling him sweet names now, the words tumbling out of his lips in a rush, and Charles holds him down by the back of the neck, looks him over--how his face is pressed down against the bed, the arch of his back illuminated in the ghostly light from the moon, and the curve of his ass where Charles is buried inside him. “ _Jack_ ,” Charles hisses, “Jack, _fuck._ ” Jack likes it rough, Charles’ hands pawing at him, so he does just that, hair brushing against his back as he leans close to Jack's neck and kisses hard. Charles closes his eyes as he buries his nose in Jack's hair, holding Jack tight against him. By the time they’ve finished again, they’ve made a mess of the sheets.

Charles turns Jack’s head by his chin, and takes in the way he looks, his eyes dark and distant, lips wet and glistening from the wet pool of spit where he had panted open-mouthed against the bed as he came. Charles holds him there, thumb resting along his sideburn as he pulls out slowly and watches Jack gasp and sigh under him.

After he puts Jack to rights, Charles lifts some water to Jack's lips.

They lie together, Jack half-asleep as Charles smokes beside him.

"Darling, that was…quite something,” Jack murmurs after some time, when they’ve recovered. “Good God...I think you very nearly made me forget my own name.”

Charles narrows his eyes as he exhales smoke into the air above them. He huffs a quiet laugh and replies, “Not likely.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Jack asks.

Charles continues gazing at him with a half-smile. He doesn’t answer, just takes Jack's hand and holds it over the brand on his chest, smoothing Jack's skin with his thumb. He looks into Jack's dark eyes, which narrow at him in curiosity.

They kiss, then they fall asleep with a breeze coming in over the dark sea. The wind ruffles the black banner flying above the ship: a skull for death, a crown for the Maroon Princess, and two swords, crossed, for oaths between men, sworn through blood.


End file.
